


In the Radiance of the Werewolf

by Actinium



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actinium/pseuds/Actinium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles does something stupid that makes him go into a heat and Derek attempts to get him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Radiance of the Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a break from something longer I'm working on. I guess it takes place somewhere between 3A and 3B, but it's not really important because, let's face it, this is just porn. Feedback is always welcome.

The book in the university library is _old_ : Its pages yellowed and brittle, its dark leather cover cracked and flaking, and Stiles is sure the book must posses hitherto unknown depths of knowledge. Stiles is kind of surprised he didn't before think of driving to the closest university to Beacon Hills to avail himself of the sheer amount of books in its library. The internet can only get you so far, and Beacon Hills' library is pretty mediocre. Terrible, really. This library is research Nirvana, is what it is. And researching has always been Stiles' favourite way to spend a Wednesday evening.

Stiles stares at the front of the thick tome for a moment, almost afraid to open the delicate cover that reads _On the Werewolf and Its fearsome Nature: Beast and Man under God's Moon_. But Stiles does open the book and begins to read about werewolf history he has never heard before, werewolf properties that are too specific to be myth or lore, werewolf strengths and weaknesses, ways to enhance werewolf abilities and ways to diminish them.

The language is not Latin—thank freaking God—but the English is definitely not modern and it sometimes takes Stiles awhile to parse the sentences, to wrap his head around the long sentences and giant paragraphs, to grapple with words he's sure are being used wrong. But the challenge excites Stiles and he's trying to absorb as much of the text as he can since he's too young to attend the university and hence doesn't have any privileges to check out books. So he has to remember as much of this incredible text as possible right now before he leaves. The obvious way around this dilemma is to just sit there and take pictures with his cellphone of every page in the book, but his phone's battery died shortly after arriving which is seriously the most inconvenient thing to ever happen to Stiles. He doesn't even know what time it is because there's no clock visible from where his sits and he can't afford to waste the time to go look for one.

A few hours pass and then a pretty hot librarian interrupts Stiles and his reading to let him know the library is closing in fifteen minutes which must mean the time is close to eleven. And Stiles has barely made a dent in the massive book. Stiles sighs loudly and starts to more aggressively flip through the stiff pages, looking for something important to jump out at him that he should read now before he can find time to return to the university campus. He comes across a section entitled _On the temporary Replication of the Attributes inherent unto the Werewolf and not unto Man_ which sounds pretty promising. The one page that the section consists of only contains what looks to be a recipe or maybe a set of directions. But before Stiles can take a closer look or see if there's anything else like it in the book or any further reference to the intriguing word 'replication,' the librarian is back and hissing at him to leave now, and she's almost quivering with outrage. And, even though her heart-shaped face and long, blond hair are no longer attractive, Stiles gives her his most winning smile and suddenly remembers he had the foresight to bring pen and paper with him though he doesn't know if you can really call it foresight if you forget about it so readily. He fishes the pen and paper out of his backpack and they allow him to quickly copy—scribble is really more accurate—down the recipe before the librarian is manhandling him out of the library. Stiles briefly considers calling campus security on her because she was not gentle, but decides to just drive home so he can process everything he's recently learned about werewolves in peace.

_______________________________________________________________ 

Stiles remembers to charge his cellphone when he's back in his bedroom and then he pulls out the piece of paper with the hastily copied text on it. It takes Stiles awhile to decipher his own scribbles, but he eventually manages to transcribe the words into a more legible form. It turns out the text _is_ a recipe, though a recipe for what Stiles still doesn't know because the words are frustratingly vague. They only refer to some sort of replication of a werewolf to a man and that's it beyond the list of ingredients and the brief directions that follow. But at least the ingredients seem simple enough: cedar wood, water collected under moonlight, human blood, black satin, an ingot of pure silver, dried wolfsbane. Stiles knows all of these will be easy to gather because he's decided—he's doesn't really know when he came to this conclusion—to try out the recipe and see what happens. Which probably is maybe not his most well-reasoned decision ever, but Stiles firmly believes that curiosity is the defining characteristic of humankind, so really, he's just doing his part to improve the human race here. Plus, temporarily having werewolf claws and werewolf teeth sounds pretty awesome.

Stiles starts collecting the ingredients the next day after school. He gets the black satin from Lydia who asks some uncomfortable questions about why Stiles wants it and Stiles barely manages to be evasive enough to leave without making Lydia suspicious enough to press the issue. The ingot of silver is easier; Stiles just goes to Allison's apartment and asks for it. The Argents always have pure silver lying around and Allison doesn't even hesitate to give Stiles a small piece. Stiles has a lie lined up for her, but she doesn't ask any questions.

Stiles goes to the woods to get the cedar after using the internet to confirm what cedar trees look like—Stiles is not a botanist or an arborist or whatever—and then he finds a nearby pond and loiters among the trees playing games on his phone as he waits for the sun to set and the moon to rise before he uses the empty water bottle he brought to procure a sample of the moon-kissed water.

That leaves only the wolfsbane and the blood, both of which he already has in large quantities because a) Stiles hangs around a lot of usually nice werewolves and seems to encounter a lot of not-so-nice werewolves and having wolfsbane handy at all times is simply a necessary part of his existence now, like breathing and flailing, and b) Stiles is not an alien so he assumes his own blood will suffice.

The directions are actually surprisingly clear for the most part. Stiles pours the moon water into a glass, wraps the silver ingot in the black satin and drops it, as well as some cedar wood chips, into the glass. Then he takes some of the dried wolfsbane from the little baggy he keeps in his wallet—Stiles once had to spend an inordinate amount of time convincing his dad that it wasn't weed—and crushes it before sprinkling the wolfsbane into the water. Then Stiles goes to bed because apparently the mixture has to marinate over night like all good mixtures need to do.

Stiles wakes early the next morning to check on the results of his experiment, but he's disappointed because it looks exactly as he left it the night before, just a bunch of wood and black cloth in brown-flecked water. But at least it's ready for the last ingredient now. Stiles goes to school but doesn't pay attention to anything his teachers say because the concoction is all he can think about.

When Stiles gets home, he boils a safety pin in some water because now is not a good time to get tetanus—really, there is never a good time to get tetanus—and when he's pretty sure the safety pin has been sterilized—Stiles is not a epidemiologistso he's kind of guessing here—he uses it to prick his finger and wills himself to not faint because seriously, this part is just unnecessarily gross. Stiles only swoons once and then he lets his blood drip into the glass. Stiles curses his platelets when he stops bleeding too soon and he has to prick his finger a second time like a freaking masochist. But thank God that twice is enough because the water turns a satisfying shade of pinky-red when Stiles gives the liquid a good stir.

Stiles then strains his Replication Elixir—this is what Stiles decides to call the mixture because it sounds nice and fancy—and all that's left to do is drink it which Stiles does, only gagging once. But that's not technically the last step because the last instruction on the page that Stiles copied says to 'Bask in the Radiance of the Werewolf,' and Stiles is still trying to figure out what the hell that means. He eventually decides it's just a pretentious way of telling him to get close to a werewolf so he goes to text Scott—his go-to werewolf—but then remembers that Scott is out of town this weekend with his mother visiting family. Stiles' next choice is Isaac, but Isaac doesn't reply to Stiles' text and doesn't answer his phone when Stiles calls which is pretty rude.

Stiles sighs dramatically because that only leaves him one option, really: Derek. Stiles considers contacting Derek beforehand, but decides against it because he doesn't want to give Derek any advanced warning of his arrival in case the werewolf flees his loft or barricades himself in or does something else histrionic and mildly insulting. Stiles doesn't consider that Derek might not even be in his loft because really, where else would the antisocial werewolf be?

So Stiles drives to Derek's apartment, and he drives rather quickly because he doesn't know if there's an expiry date on his Replication Elixir and he absolutely does not want to have to prick his finger again in order to make another batch. When Stiles arrives at Derek's loft, he slides open the door and breezes in, saying, “Hey, Derek,” as casually as he can.

Derek turns to him with a glower that lacks any kind of Radiance, which Stiles hopes won't be an issue, and asks, “What are you doing here, Stiles?”

“Oh, I just came by to see how you're doing. How are you doing?”

Derek grunts. “I'm fine.”

Stiles looks at his hand to check for werewolf claws but his nails look normal. Perhaps he has to get nearer? Basking involves close proximity, right? Stiles walks toward Derek and says, “So glad to hear you're doing well, dear friend! Anything new? Buy any new appliances lately? Like a juicer or a hand-blender or a Roomba or a hair dryer?”

“No,” Derek replies.

Stiles doesn't really care about Derek's appliances—except for the Roomba because Roombas are awesome—but the rambling has allowed Stiles to get close to Derek without arousing any suspicion. He glances at his hand again but his nails are still normal, damn it. Super close it is then. Stiles walks right up to Derek so that they're almost touching, and he's about to make some excuse involving smelling Derek's new cologne when he feels heat seep from Derek towards him and his body seems to absorb it eagerly. Finally, Radiance! But then another wave of heat is emitted from Derek, except this one hits Stiles like a concrete wall before enveloping him and it causes him to violently stumble backwards and almost fall, but Derek grabs his arm to steady him.

“Are you alright, Stiles?” Derek asks, his tone changing from irritation to concern.

“I'm okay,” Stiles replies, but he's not really sure if that's the truth because his entire body feels flushed and his skin is suddenly overly sensitive and his clothes feel like they weigh a million pounds. “Maybe I should sit down.”

Derek guides Stiles to the couch and sits down beside the teenager and says, “You're sweating. A lot.”

Stiles can only nod in response because his throat his thick which makes it difficult to get words out. Is this an allergic reaction to the Replication Elixir? Is Stiles allergic to water gathered under moonlight or maybe allergic to his own blood? Which probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but Stiles is having trouble thinking clearly right now because he's pretty sure he's dying. But then Derek leans closer to Stiles, and Stiles can suddenly _smell_ him, can smell the werewolf's intoxicating scent—a scent like freshly-turned earth and copper and sandalwood and some kind of primal musk—and the aroma sets Stiles' body on fire.

Stiles closes his eyes because it lets him better focus on Derek's smell and he breathes deeply, letting the scent coat his mouth and throat, his lungs and nerves, and Stiles' dick is suddenly painfully hard in his jeans.

Stiles opens his eyes when Derek starts speaking again. “Stiles, are you sure you're alright? Your heart is racing more than normal and your smell....” Derek trails of as his eyes slowly widen. “What the hell did you do?”

This is normally where Stiles would launch into a detailed and possibly exaggerated account of his actions over the past few days, but right now speaking is difficult—forming coherent thoughts is difficult—because Derek is staring at him with his dark eyebrows drawn together, and the shape of Derek's cheekbones is the hottest thing Stiles has ever seen and Stiles needs to feel Derek's stubble against his fevered flesh like he's never needed anything else before, so all he can say is, “Elixir!”

“What? What elixir?” Derek says, frowning in confusion, and that slight movement of Derek's lips is enough to send Stiles' heart thumping wildly in his chest and heady desire to rocket through his thrumming body.

“A... a recipe I found. Replicates werewolf attributes. To give me werewolf claws for a time.” Stiles is distantly aware of the fact that he still doesn't have any claws.

“Oh God, and you drank it,” Derek says and it's not a question.

Stiles nods and then yells, “What the hell is happening to me?”

“I think... I think you're going into heat. That's what you smell like, at least. The elixir must have given you the ability to experience a werewolf's heat.”

Stiles knows enough about animal mating practices to have a vague idea about what this means, but he's never heard of werewolves going through heats. And he's an expert on everything werewolf! “But Scott, he's never....”

“Not yet. It's not a science, Stiles. It doesn't happen in regular cycles or anything. Every few months, or even years for some werewolves, the heat just arrives.”

Stiles isn't really paying attention to Derek's explanation because his jeans are abrading his legs and his cock feels like it's trying to pierce through his pants, and seriously, denim is the most uncomfortable fabric ever created. His fumbles at his belt as he kicks off his shoes until his clumsy fingers finally get the belt undone, and then Stiles is desperately shucking off his jeans and socks, exposing his legs to the cooler air of the apartment. Stiles doesn't even care that Derek can see the raging hard-on tenting his boxers and the obvious wet stain that's formed. But the relief doesn't last long because Derek still smells amazing and Stiles needs that scent all over his body. Stiles tightly grips the couch cushion because it's taking all of his self-control to not fling himself at the werewolf sitting beside him, but he can't help letting a whimper escape his throat and then he's saying, “Derek....”

Derek shifts away from him, saying, “Okay, Stiles. It's going to be okay. The heat will pass eventually. It's going to be rough, like maybe the most unpleasant thing you've ever experienced, but it _will_ pass.” Stiles' dick throbs because Derek's voice resonates throughout Stiles' body, and more precum leaks out, staining his boxers even darker. Derek's nostrils flare as he inhales deeply and he shakes his head as he continues, “I can resist this—fuck, the way you smell right now, Stiles—but I can control myself even if you can't right now, and we'll just wait it out. Yes, we'll wait it out.” Derek's voice is more strained than Stiles has ever heard it before.

But then Derek's eyes flash a searing blue and he licks his lips involuntarily, and it's just too much for Stiles as the heat inside him swells. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and arches his back, his fingers digging painfully into the couch cushion, because, even though he hasn't touched his cock since this whole ordeal began, the most intense orgasm he's ever had is tearing through his body. His mouth opens to emit a strangled moan as his cum soaks his boxers. Stiles lets out a shuddering breath, his chest heaving, when the orgasm finally ends, and he opens his eyes to see Derek staring at him with those Radiant blue eyes, his mouth open enough to expose his sharp werewolf teeth.

Derek makes a strangled sound of his own and leaps off the couch, backing away from Stiles. He runs a trembling hand through his dark hair and says hoarsely, “Jesus, Stiles. You have no idea what your pheromones are doing to me right now, not to mention the smell of your.... But it's fine. It's fine. You just stay there and I'll stay over here and everything will be alright.”

Stiles wipes at his sweaty brow, unable to form words yet. Sweat slicks his entire body since there's still a low fire burning under his skin. Stiles yanks off his clinging t-shirt and then pulls off his boxers because his dick is still achingly hard and his balls feel heavy like he hasn't cum in days—weeks—despite having just cum literally a minute ago. He reclines against the couch, breathing heavily. Derek being so far away is almost painful.

Derek looks sharply away from Stiles' naked body, but his gaze returns almost immediately. He takes another step back and Stiles almost cries out because the fierce heat is once again building, crashing against every nerve in his body, and Stiles _needs_ Derek. He grabs his cock with his right hand and starts to jerk it as his left hand travels between his legs until he's rubbing a finger vigorously against his hole. And this is something that Stiles has never done before—not that he's never thought about it—but it just feels right in this moment; it just feels great as he presses a finger inside himself.

But it's not enough, not even close to being enough, so Stiles says, “Please, Derek. I.... God, I need you over here,” as he pushes another finger into his hole.

“No,” Derek responds forcefully.

“At least... at least come closer. Please.” Derek's scent is faint and it's driving Stiles crazy.

Derek takes a hesitant step forward and then another, and Stiles can smell him again, can almost taste the deep, musky essence of him. It drives Stiles to shove a third finger into himself.

“Fuck, Derek, this is almost unbearable. How the hell do werewolves deal with this?”

Stiles can hear Derek swallow and then the werewolf says, “Sex. Sex helps alleviate the worst of it. But that won't have to happen because the heat will pass on its own. Eventually. It will help if I leave, if you're not around me.”

“No!” Stiles yells because the thought of Derek leaving right now almost destroys him. “No, Derek, please don't leave. I won't be able to survive this alone.”

“It may feel that way, Stiles, but it's not true. It'll be hard, but you should be alright on your own.”

Stiles is bucking his hips into the fist wrapped around his dick and he can tell that Derek can't stop looking. “I want you to fuck me, Derek,” Stiles grunts out because it's true, maybe the most true thing he's ever said. Just the idea of Derek inside him almost makes him cum again, and Stiles moans as more precum leaks out of his cock. He keeps working his fingers inside his hole.

“No, Stiles, you don't mean that. It's just the heat making you say that,” Derek replies, but he takes a step closer as he says it and his hands hanging at his sides are really shaking now.

“Yes, I mean it! This is what I want and I know you want it too! I want you to fuck me nonstop until I can't cum anymore and I want you to cover me in your scent until it's the only thing I can breathe in and I want you to bite me and mark me all over until you've made me completely yours.” And Stiles is a seventeen year-old virgin and he never thought his first time would be with Derek Hale because, no matter how attractive Stiles has always found Derek, the werewolf has always seemed more interested in slamming Stiles against a wall than in slamming Stiles on a bed, but dear fucking God, he wants this.

“Fuck, Stiles, you can't say things like that,” Derek growls, his face flushed.

“Too late, I just did. I'll even say it again: I want you to fuck me nonstop unt—”

Stiles is cut off by another growl from Derek, this one louder and deeper, and it causes Stiles' body to vibrate in response, like a guitar string answering the pluck of a finger, and Stiles hears himself whine with a desperate need.

And then Derek is before him and the werewolf is gently unwrapping Stiles' sticky fingers from around his dick. Derek eases the fingers from Stiles' left hand out of his hole and replaces them with his own longer, thicker finger. Derek twists his finger inside Stiles as he leans down and kisses him, his lips and breath hot against Stiles' mouth, and Stiles' nostrils fill with Derek's incredible scent, and now he's tasting Derek and cumming again, moaning into Derek's mouth as his hole clenches hard around Derek's finger.

Derek keeps on kissing and fingering Stiles until the teenager stops cumming. When Derek straightens, Stiles can see his load all over Derek's shirt; it covers his own chest and stomach as well. Derek drops to his knees and runs his tongue slowly up Stiles' stomach and licks up the cum until Stiles' chest is clean and gleaming with Derek's saliva. The feel of Derek's tongue sends shivers through Stiles' body and keeps his cock hard.

Then Derek is lifting Stiles and carrying him to the bedroom. Stiles finds himself lying on the bed and he watches hazily as Derek undresses until Derek is naked in front of him. Stiles watches the muscles of Derek's arms and chest flex, straining with yearning, but then Stiles' gaze is drawn down to Derek's waist and the cock jutting out at him. Derek's dick is large—much larger than Stiles' dick—and thick, and Stiles knows that it was made for him.

The sight of Derek naked sends another wave of heat propagating through Stiles' body and his skin is on fire again and his head feels heavy and the air is almost too thick to breathe, but still Derek stands in front of him, his only movement the heaving of his chest as he breathes raggedly.

“Derek. Come. Over here. God, why aren't you moving?” Stiles croaks.

“If I join you now, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself again.”

“Good. I won't want you to stop.” Stiles shudders as the heat inside him flares again and he can't stop his hand from grabbing his cock again. Stiles doesn't know how to get Derek on the bed with him and it's slowly killing him, so he growls and tries to put all his desire and want and need and lust into the sound.

Derek launches himself on to the bed and then he's suddenly on top of Stiles, his weight crushing Stiles' body beautifully. Derek starts to kiss all over Stiles' face, but the kissing soon turns into biting and Stiles lets out a cry when he feels Derek's sharp teeth scrape against his sensitive skin.

“Harder, Derek, harder,” Stiles moans as Derek's mouth travels down to his neck, over his throat, Derek's werewolf teeth pressing firmly into Stiles' skin. Then Derek's mouth is on the flesh between Stiles' neck and shoulder and Derek bites Stiles hard. Stiles curls his fingers into Derek's hair and yells, “Fuck, mark me as yours, Derek!” Stiles can hear Derek make a rumbling sound that seems to come from deep within his body and Stiles is almost choking on Derek's scent as the werewolf continues to work over his shoulder.

Stiles is now desperately grinding his body up into Derek's and each time their cocks press together it causes a frisson of pleasure to slam into Stiles. Derek finally lets go of Stiles' shoulder and moves his head down Stiles' body, rubbing his sweaty face against the teenager's skin, his tongue lazily swiping at the fevered flesh. When Derek's tongue meets Stiles' dick and the werewolf licks hungrily at it, it takes Stiles a few minutes to return to reality. But then Derek's mouth swallows one of Stiles balls and his mouth tugs and Stiles is panting heavily now, already close to orgasming again. Derek's lips keep travelling until they're between Stiles' legs and then the werewolf's mouth is at Stiles hole and he's licking and pressing his wet and warm tongue into Stiles.

Stiles gasps and tries to let Derek know how much he's needed this, but all he can get out is a plaintive, “Derek....” Stiles can feel his body, his hole, eagerly responding to the ministrations of Derek's tongue, and when Derek pushes a finger into him, Stiles is instantly begging the werewolf for more.

Derek answers by pressing another finger into Stiles and then another, and then Derek slides his fingers almost out only to shove them back in. Stiles groans and squeezes his dick and starts to furiously jerk himself while his other hand reaches down and grips Derek's wrist to make sure the werewolf never stops what he's doing to Stiles. Derek's fingers suddenly curl inside him and brush against Stiles' prostate and it causes Stiles to go blind for a few seconds, the world fading away, and then Derek digs his fingers into that sensitive spot and Stiles yells as his third orgasm hits, his dick shooting thick, white strands of cum, the first one arcing up to land on his lower cheek, the second on his chest, and the third seeping out over his hand.

The orgasm leaves Stiles shuddering as he lies on Derek's bed, but the fire is still racing along his nerves. Stiles blinks sweat out of his eyes and mutters, “Derek, I need to taste you again.”

Derek climbs back up to Stiles until their slick and sticky bodies are once again pressed together. Stiles can feel precum leaking out of Derek onto him, can smell the sweet saltiness of it, and he bites at Derek as their faces meet. His lips rasp against Derek's stubble, his blunt teeth pressing hard into Derek's jaw. Derek growls and hold Stiles' head and then says, “Did you like my fingers filling you? Do you want to feel my cock fill you? Because I want to fuck you until you cry out again. And then fuck you again. And again.”

Stiles whispers, “Nonstop,” because his mouth is dry and his voice is weak, and Derek kisses him roughly and Stiles can feel Derek's werewolf claws against his scalp. Then Derek is back between Stiles' legs and Stiles can feel the heat of Derek's dick as it hovers in front of his hole. Stiles slides down the bed until Derek's slick cock head is pressed against his hole and Derek pushes into Stiles and Stiles groans as Derek fills him just like the werewolf promised.

When Derek is balls deep inside Stiles he grunts, “Holy fuck, Stiles, you're so tight,” and shifts his hips, pulling out a bit only to slide back in, and Stiles bites his bottom lip and whimpers for more. Derek begins to move more forcefully, slamming into Stiles over and over again. And Stiles has never felt this complete before and the heat inside him is a raging inferno now, threatening to immolate him at any second, and his hands reach out for Derek.

Derek leans down over Stiles, his powerful rhythm never slackening, and Stiles pulls Derek closer to him, clawing his nails into Derek's back. Derek is kissing and licking and biting Stiles' face as his hand reaches between their heaving bodies and wraps itself around Stiles' stiff, burning cock and he somehow manages to be mindful of his werewolf claws.

All Stiles can smell now is Derek's overpowering aroma and the deep, earthy scent inflames Stiles' heat even higher. “Yes, Derek, fuck another load out of me. God yes, fuck, oh God. Deeper. Please, Derek, deeper.”

Derek increases the pace of his thrusts and jacks Stiles' dick even harder. Stiles can't form any more words, can no longer beg Derek even though he wants more. He needs more of Derek inside him because this still isn't enough. It's enough to make Stiles cum though, and Stiles digs his nails deep into Derek's back as his body convulses, every muscle in his body straining, his spunk once again coating him and Derek. Derek howls against Stiles' neck and thrusts one last time, shoving fully into Stiles, and then his own load fills the teenager, spurt after thick spurt flooding into Stiles.

Derek collapses onto Stiles after his intense orgasm finally finishes and Stiles just lies there, panting and breathing in Derek. Derek is still hard in Stiles, pressing against Stiles' sides, but still he needs more as another wave of heat rocks through his body. Then Derek moans, “Oh, Stiles...” and growls low and intimate, and then his body tenses and there's suddenly a new pressure inside Stiles as the base of Derek's cock swells, forcing Stiles wider, filling him more completely than anything he thought ever would. And Stiles realizes that this is what his body was waiting for—demanding—because it simply feels _right_.

Derek's dick continues to expand, tying them together and squeezing against Stiles' prostate. Stiles' entire body is quaking and he whispers Derek's name over and over again, urging the werewolf to fill him more until Derek lets out another guttural growl and spills another load inside Stiles. Stiles' body responds by dragging one last, slow, aching orgasm out of him as Derek grinds into Stiles, trying ineffectually to push himself deeper, his cock still leaking fitful spurts of cum.

Derek finally stops juddering and he's motionless for a long moment before he lifts his head and brings his lips up to meet Stiles'. Stiles is suddenly exhausted and he can't kiss back with any force as the heat begins to dissipate from his body. Derek is careful to not shift too much when he burrows his face into the base of Stiles' neck because the werewolf is still swollen inside Stiles. Derek bites his shoulder again, but is more gentle this time, and Stiles sighs as he lets the exhaustion take over, and he quickly falls asleep with Derek still perfectly locked into him.

 _______________________________________________________________

Stiles wakes an indeterminate amount of time later, but it's dark outside so he must have slept for a few hours at least. He stirs but stops moving when every muscle he posses cries out in protest. Stiles feels like he was crammed into a barrel and then rolled down a steep hill and then the barrel crashed against some boulders at the bottom because he aches all over and is sore in places he thought would never be sore. His dick is soft for the first time in what feels like years, but even it and his balls pulse with a dull ache.

Stiles' thoughts are still foggy, but he remembers Derek and tries to call out to him, but his voice is harsh and broken. Derek must hear it though, because he's suddenly just there, sitting on the bed beside Stiles and running his fingers through Stiles' damp hair.

“Good, you're awake. How do you feel?” Derek asks.

“I feel like one of those insane people who participates in decathlons. But I think I'll survive.”

Derek smiles at Stiles, but his voice is concerned when he says, “Are you sure you're alright? It got... intense at the end. The heat helps block any pain, but it's still there, afterwards.”

Stiles' eyes widen as he remembers and he asks, “That was your... knot?” Derek nods. “Oh my God, I thought that was a myth!” Stiles' body still feels like it's in one piece, so he reassures Derek again, saying, “I'm okay. No permanent damage done.”

Derek frowns. “I didn't think an induced heat would affect a human like that. You know, so strongly. I'm sorry, Stiles. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Stiles forces his arm to move and reaches over to pat Derek's leg. Stiles realizes that Derek is still naked. “You didn't hurt me, Derek. In fact, I don't even want to imagine what it would have been like if you hadn't been there.” Stiles thinks back, trying to count. “God, if you hadn't been there to draw five orgasms out of me. Fuck.”

Derek nods, looking relieved. “That's a werewolf heat for you. But you need to eat and drink something. To keep your strength up. I'll be right back.”

Derek leaves and Stiles realizes that Derek's sheets are a mess. He doesn't even think the Roomba will be able to clean them. Derek returns a short time later with a sandwich and a large glass of water. He helps Stiles sit up because Stiles is still too weak to move on his own and he also helps Stiles eat the sandwich. Derek makes the teenager drink the entire glass of water and then fills it up again and waits patiently for Stiles to finish that one as well.

Derek finally seems satisfied and Stiles asks, “What did you mean when you said that I had to keep my strength up?”

Derek gives Stiles a long look, his expression unreadable, and then says, “The heat isn't over; I can still smell it on you. This is just lull, a chance for you to let your body try and recoup some of its resources.”

Stiles stares at Derek, his mouth open. “You're joking, right? Because I don't think I can go through that again. Wait, how long is this going to freaking last?”

“A few days, Stiles.”

Stiles feels like crying all of a sudden. There's no way his body will be able to keep this up for _days_. “I'm sorry, Derek. I'm sorry I was a moron and drank the stupid Replication Elixir. I just wanted werewolf claws for a day! But I'm really sorry that I involved you in this.”

“Don't, Stiles. There's nothing to apologize for.”

“So you'll... you'll stay with me through this? Help me?” Stiles hopes his voice doesn't sound as pathetic as he feels in this moment.

Derek cups Stiles' face and leans in close, his hazel eyes sincere, and says, “Of course. I'm not going anywhere. We'll go through this together, if you really want me to.”

“I do, Derek. I really do. Thank you.” There's a brief silence and then Stiles exclaims, “My dad!”

“What? You want him here too?” Derek sounds uncertain, but he shrugs.

“No, Derek! Not that! But if I'm going to be here for days you have to come up with some reason—dear God, not the truth—why I'm here so he won't freakout and send the entire Sheriff's Department out looking for me. Get my phone and text him, please.”

Derek does as Stiles requests and then returns, saying, “Okay, I sent him a text. I told him you were here helping me with a personal matter and that you would send him another message tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll remember to text him again tomorrow.”

“Good. Thanks, Derek. Thanks for... everything, really.” Stiles can't bring himself to say, 'Thanks for fucking me silly' out loud.

“Don't worry about it, Stiles. Really. Can you move though? Because we should get ourselves cleaned up, and a shower should help you feel better. A bath would be better, but I don't have a tub unfortunately.”

Stiles tries moving again and his limbs actually cooperate this time, but barely. “A shower sounds nice. A shower sounds awesome, actually. But I think you'll have to help me.” Stiles feels himself blush all of a sudden which is crazy because, after what he and Derek just did together, he should never feel embarrassed in front of Derek Hale ever again.

Derek simply nods and helps Stiles get out of the bed and then half-supports Stiles as the teenager staggers to the bathroom. Stiles sits on the toilet as Derek gets the water ready, and then Derek is assisting him into the shower. Stiles lets the warm water sluice over his head and body as Derek wraps an arm around Stiles' stomach to keep him steady and on his feet. Derek awkwardly washes them both one-handed, and it takes awhile, but Stiles doesn't mind because the knots in his muscles are finally starting to loosen.

Derek brushes his hand against Stiles' ass and then his finger is sliding between Stiles' cheeks and Stiles tenses against Derek when he feels the finger touch lightly against his sore hole. But Derek just gently massages at the hole, trying to ease some of the ache away, and Stiles relaxes into it, letting himself lean more fully against Derek's solid bulk. Stiles closes his eyes as the water sprays on him and Derek's finger deftly soothes him.

Then they're getting out of the shower and Stiles is back sitting on the toilet as Derek turns off the shower and grabs some towels. He dries Stiles off, making sure to not rub too vigorously, and then he's leading Stiles out of the bathroom and back to Derek's bed. Stiles sits down, suddenly tired again, but Derek makes him drink more water before letting him fall back asleep.

 _______________________________________________________________

Stiles wakes again because that terrible heat is returning, crawling through his body, clouding his thoughts and beginning to set his skin on fire. He's alone in the bed, but Derek must have slept here recently because Stiles can smell his lingering scent. He rolls over to the other side of the bed and pushes his face into the pillow Derek used, inhaling deeply. The werewolf's faint musk makes Stiles instantly hard.

Stiles grinds his hips into the mattress as he breathes Derek in, his pain from earlier forgotten. He's already coated in sweat and this shadow of Derek's scent is not even close to being enough to satisfy him. Stiles calls out, “Derek!” because he needs to see his werewolf, to touch him and offer himself to him, to open himself up for him.

Stiles can sense Derek when he enters the bedroom, feels his scent like a tangible thing as it buffets his flushed body. Stiles groans and rolls over on to his back and smiles when he sees Derek in at the foot of the bed already naked and hard. Hard for Stiles.

There is no hesitation from Derek this time as he jumps on the bed and pulls Stiles into his lap, crushing their dicks together. Derek kisses Stiles hungrily and Stiles eagerly responds, his mouth sealing itself against Derek's mouth so he can breathe in and taste and swallow at least a little part of Derek. Stiles finally pulls away from Derek and says, “Your eyes. Your teeth. Your claws. I need to see them. I need to feel them.”

Derek does as asked, letting his eyes turn blue and his werewolf teeth to extend and Stiles can feel the claws scratch against his back. Stiles nods enthusiastically and humps his body more forcefully against Derek and then he grabs Derek's head and pushes it down to that spot between his neck and shoulder. Derek growls into Stiles as he bites him and Stiles moans when he feels Derek bite him hard, his body shivering in response.

“I want to bite you all over, Stiles. Mark you everywhere as mine so that everyone will know and hate me for having you.”

“Yes, Derek, do it. Do it!” Stiles yells.

Derek pushes Stiles off his lap and on to the bed and then his mouth is everywhere, his teeth are everywhere scraping against Stiles' skin, pressing into him, and Derek's werewolf claws razor along Stiles' arms and legs, echoing the glorious sharpness of Derek's teeth. The biting only relents when Derek swallows Stiles' cock and it causes Stiles to buck his hips up into Derek's mouth, yelling wordlessly at the warmth and wetness surrounding his dick. Stiles doesn't last long and he gasps as he blows his load down Derek's throat.

Derek doesn't let Stiles recover but immediately bites his way back up Stiles' body until their lips are smashing against each other and Stiles can taste himself in Derek's mouth. Stiles growls at Derek to turn over because Stiles wants to taste everything about Derek, breathe in every smell of him. He kisses the werewolf's chest, nips at a nipple until Derek growls low in his throat. Stiles pushes his face into Derek's cock, rubs his face along the hard, slick, incredible length of it. Then he's tasting it as he swallows the broad head and Derek's precum fills his mouth. Stiles inhales Derek's dick desperately, not caring when he gags because he needs to have all of it.

Stiles sucks and swallows insistently and Derek moans obscenities and then the werewolf snarls, “I'm going to fuck you until you howl, Stiles. Right now.” He pulls Stiles off his cock and throws Stiles on his stomach and then Derek's hands are between Stiles' ass cheeks and he's forcing his dick deep within him. Stiles takes it easily, even eagerly, as he moans into the pillow—Derek's sweet pillow—and drives his own dick into the mattress. Stiles can feel Derek's claws pressing into the skin at his waist as the werewolf forces Stiles' hips back into Derek's cock.

“You're not howling, Stiles,” Derek grunts between thrusts, and then he rams into Stiles harder and harder until Stiles can't help but howl out his pleasure as his orgasm surges through him. Stiles' convulsing body causes Derek to cum as well, his claws digging almost painfully into Stiles' sides.

When Stiles can speak again, the first thing he says is, “Derek. Your knot. Give it to me. Fucking please give it to me.”

“You want it to stretch you, Stiles? Want it to swell and seal my seed inside you?”

“God yes. Give it me!” Stiles repeats, his voice breaking, and he buries his face into the pillow as he feels the base of Derek's dick finally enlarge. A keening sound escapes Stiles' throat as Derek's knot gets bigger and bigger, and it causes him to cum again, begging for more of the knot the entire time his own seed shoots out of him. Derek starts to shift his hips, growling Stiles' name, and then he erupts inside him, coating Stiles' insides with his cum.

Derek falls on to Stiles' back, kissing his neck and shoulder. Stiles doesn't pass out this time, but lies there with Derek contentedly nuzzling the bottom of his neck, feeling Derek's knot still blissfully inside him, fastening them together.

 _______________________________________________________________

The hours and days pass in the same routine of showering, eating and fucking whenever Stiles' heat builds. It's mostly a blur to Stiles as time slips away, and all that exists for the teenager are the insatiable needs of his body and Derek, who is always there, his presence becoming Stiles' only link to reality.

Stiles eventually wakes to afternoon sunlight streaming into Derek's bedroom. Stiles feels lucid for the first time in days, and his body is coated in a cool sweat like a fever just broke. He's lying in Derek's bed with Derek asleep beside him. The sunlight illuminates Derek's pale skin, making the werewolf's peaceful face look Radiant.

Stiles leans over and runs a hand over Derek's cheek, feeling the coarse stubble beneath his fingers. He can't help but run his thumb over Derek's bottom lip and then he lets his hand trail down the werewolf's muscled chest and rests the hand atop Derek's stomach, feeling each slow inhale and exhale. Stiles' own muscles feel tired, but it's a pleasant ache, like he's worked hard all day at a demanding task and accomplished something worthwhile at the end.

Derek stirs and opens his eyes to see Stiles staring at him. Derek smiles and says, “The heat's finished.”

Derek's lips move and Stiles wants nothing more than to kiss them even though the heat is no longer ravaging through his body. He takes his hand off Derek, but can't stop himself from shifting closer to the werewolf's warmth as he nods and says, “Yeah. Finally. God, I don't even know what day it is.”

“It's Sunday.”

Stiles groans. “Well, I'm glad someone was able to keep track of time.” After a pause, Stiles asks, “Did you remember to keep texting my dad?”

Derek nods and Stiles sighs in relief.

Derek leans on his side, coming closer to Stiles, and Stiles can now smell Derek, though not as intensely as before, but it's still really nice.

Derek opens his mouth to say something and Stiles loses all control and kisses him. Derek's lips are soft against his own and then Derek's mouth is opening and their tongues are touching, but Derek stops abruptly and pulls back.

“Stiles.... The heat's passed. There's no need to—”

“Yeah, there's no need to, Derek. But my dick is somehow, amazingly, hard again. And yes, there's no need to, but I want to. Unless you don't want to, of course.”

Derek looks at Stiles for a long time and then says, “Right now? We're a mess. The sheets are a mess.”

Stiles laughs, picturing the poor Roomba trying to clean. He doesn't even think Roombas work that way, but the image is too funny. “No point in cleaning up if we're just going to soil everything again.”

That causes Derek to bend over to kiss him again. The kiss is deep and passionate and Stiles can feel Derek's erection prodding his leg. He turns over in Derek's arms so that his back his pressed to Derek's front, so that Derek's cock is pressed against Stiles' ass. Derek's found lube somewhere, and his finger is slick as it rubs against Stiles' hole and then it gently enters him. Derek is tender and patient as he coaxes Stiles open because he knows there's no longer the heat to blunt any discomfort.

Derek's fingers bring Stiles to a precipice of pleasure and Stiles mumbles, his voice hoarse, “Okay, Derek.”

Derek doesn't say anything, but he responds by sliding his dick into Stiles. Derek is big but Stiles is ready and Stiles gasps as he feels the entire length of Derek inside him. The werewolf wraps his arm around Stiles and pulls him close. Derek's thrust are deep and regular as his cock rubs against every nerve in Stiles. Stiles says, “You can bite me, Derek,” and when Derek presses his werewolf teeth hard into the back of Stiles' shoulder, they cum at the same time, human and werewolf, and their moans mingle into one voice.

Derek starts pulling out of Stiles immediately after, but Stiles says, “No, Derek. Don't. I want the knot.”

“Stiles, you don't have to.”

“No, keep yourself inside me. Please.”

Derek relents and slides his dick fully back into Stiles. Stiles yelps when he feels Derek start to swell and then he can't help crying out when the swelling continues, stretching him wide. Derek makes a soft mewling sound and Stiles says, “It's fine, Derek. It's good. It's great even.” Stiles forces his body to relax, to welcome the knot. His body obeys and Stiles pushes his ass into Derek's hips and moans to show the werewolf that he enjoys it. Derek lets himself go then, filling Stiles to the brim.

Afterwards, Stiles lies enveloped in Derek's arms, encased by the werewolf's warmth. Derek is half asleep and humming pleased and low in Stiles' ear. Stiles feels himself drifting off as well, and his last thought before sleep claims him is that he's really happy he's not going to have to make another Replication Elixir—not going to have to prick his finger again—in order to keep having sex with Derek Hale.


End file.
